Blood On The Streets
by Alan Spencer
Summary: The first time they enter The First Lady airship, Booker makes a different choice. He sets a course to Paris, instead of New York. One year later, Columbia descents to burn down the mountains of men, and Booker discovers that even in infinite there is such a thing as destiny.
1. The WIDENING GYRE

**Blood on the Streets**

**I. THE WIDENING GYRE**

Booker Dewitt felt the elevator come to a stop, and the door opened. The First´s Lady was there. It was not all that big, but things like that didn´t matter. What mattered was that, finally, he could get out of this madness and wipe away his debt. He took a step forward, pistol in hand.

"How did they knew you were coming, Booker?" Elizabeth said.

"Well, either they have a prophet on their side..." She laughed. Not for the first time, Booker found himself thinking that she had a nice laugth. If circustances had be different, he could see himself falling in love with her. Now, after _everything_, it just was not possible. And he doubted that, even if he wanted to, she could be open to a relationship. Still, it was a nice thougth. "Or then who hired me wrote also wrote them the signs."

"Why?"

"Beats me." He said, opened the door to the airship and stepped trougth. Elizabeth followed him.

"Maybe they didn´t have to. Maybe Comstock expected you. Did you do anything to him or something?"

"I saw him in for the first time when I came here, Elizabeth. There is no way I had done something to him." Suddenly, his head started hurting, and he felt something that almost made him puke, something that could only be described as the world folding on itself. He brougth his fingers to his nose, dizzingly, and they came away covered in blood. Fresh blood. His blood.

"Boo-_Mister Bubbles, look, his at angel._" For a split second, he saw a city in the water, felt the smell of the sea in everything, even himself. And somewher, far, far away, he heard a scream and a drill. Then, he loss his balance and felt agaist the desk, scaterring papers and figures and trowing some of them to the floor. Elizabeth´s hands went to his shoulders, but he was only vaguely aware of it. He gasped for air, and...

* * *

><p>... He heard several loud knocks at the door of his office. He lay on the hard ground, besides his chair. In the city, a train blared past and faded into the distance. He tried to stand up, but he had to grab to his chair and then his desk to manage it. Booker closed his eyes, for a moment.<p>

"Mister Dewitt!" Somebody screamed. It was the voice of a man, and he sounded familiar. Far too familiar. He knocked several times, again. "Mister Dewitt! We had a dealt, Dewitt!"

"Who are you? What do you want?" He felt himself saying, as he stumbled towards the door, grabbing the walls and bookcases for support.

"Dewitt!" The man shouted, like he hadn´t heard him. "Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt!"

"Shut up!" Booker screamed, and grabbed the door. "What do you want with her? Why her? Why!"

He opened the door, and there was light. When he stepped through, he found himself not in front of Jack´s liquor store, but in a alleyway, and rain was falling. It took him a moment to realize that there was a man in front of him, running. No, no just running. Running from him. He was pursuing him. Booker saw the small bundle that man had in his arms, and all the pieces felt into place.

"Give me back my daughter, you son of a bitch!" He roared. "Give Anna back!"

Booker stumbled against something hard, and fell to the wet floor on his hand and knees. When he stood up again, he saw that man disappearing into the alley of the right and he followed him as fast as he could, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The man was not alone. There was another one with him, an old man with a long, grey beard. He was holding his daughter. He was of them, he thought. The ones who had taken his daughter from him.

"Hey, the dealt his off, you heard me?" He screamed as he ran to them, not even taking real notice of that strange hole in the wall, outlined in blue. The man looked at him, surprise plain on his face. "The deal his off! Give her back!"

Booker grabbed his daughter off with both hands, trying to take her for that bastard, but he struggled against him hard. His fingers were slipping, already.

"Give her back, you son of a bitch!" He screamed, then he was shoved away and the old man stepped through the portal. There was another person there, but that didn´t matter either. Only his daughter mattered. Booker grabbed Anna again, and even thought he was tired for running after that guy his first push nearly tore her from the hands of that man.

"No... no, no, no! No!" He was losing ground, fast. She was disappearing into that blue hole, disappearing as the hole got smaller and smaller. "Anna! Anna!"

"Shut down the machine, now!" Booker didn´t understand that, but he didn´t want to, either. He only understood that he needed her back, and they were standing on his way, all of them. He was going to save her, and then he could kill them all, sent them on fire like he did to so many people at Wounded Knee. They deserved that, and more.

"Give me back my daughter!" He screamed, and then the old man gave one last push and Anna was no longer on his hands. She was extending her arms towards him; she needed him. Booker nearly lost his balance right there, but he steadied himself and reached with one hand into that portal, who now was just a tiny circle, thinking about pulling her away before it closed, thinking that this was not happening, that it simply couldn´t happen, and, most of all, that it was all a dream or an illusion or something...

Then, the portal closed, just has as he had be about to touch it. Booker saw her daughter's finger fall for it, and he felt to his knees. He was alone. There was only the rain, and the cars and people talking and the knowledge that he had failed, puked it, that in the end she had be right, he was a...

* * *

><p>...bad father, Booker dizzily thought, staring at Elizabeth´s worried face above him. The worst one. He noticed that she was shaking, and that not only her eyes were a little misty but she had be crying. For him? He didn´t understand. He didn´t deserve her tears, didn´t deserve anything but death.<p>

"Booker!" Elizabeth screamed, voice breaking. "Booker, what happened? Just... what happened? What happened?"

"Don´t worry." He grunted. "I am fine."

"No, you are not! You were shaking so much, and muttering, m-muttering something's I didn´t understand. You looked like you were having a seizure, for god sake! Of course you are not fine!"

"I..." It was Comstock, he thought. The one that had took his daughter away for him. And that man that he had been chasing, that woman who was in that strange hole that was really a Tear-they were the ones who made him go to Columbia. For Elizabeth. Or, maybe... Maybe it was for Anna. His daughter. He raised his hand to her cheek, and softly stroked it.

"Booker, what..." She muttered, blushing. She didn´t look much like her, but she had be a baby when she had be taken from him so I didn´t mean anything. He still didn´t knew what happened, didn´t have all the pieces, but she was Anna and that was what mattered. He could protect her, and make her happy. They could go to Paris together, and he would make her forget about _this_ fucking city. Anna moved her head to the right.

"You heard that?"

"No, I..." But then he heard it, the sound of another ship. Booker took his hand away, and stood up. Beyond the window, he saw a ship with soldiers on the deck. They fired at the ship, and he had to go down to avoid the hail of bullets and broken glass. Anna did the same.

"Booker..."

"Stay here." He said, sounding calm, but on the inside he was anything but calm. His daughter was lying over broken glass; she shouldn´t have do something like that. It was bad he know to know that his daughter had spent her life locked in a tower, with that damned bird as her jailor, knowing that they had examined her like a lab rat and that she only had the illusion of privacy, but this was just too much. Enough was enough. They couldn´t leave her alone, but he could make them. "And don´t worry. I kill them. I kill every last one of them."

"Booker, wait!" She was calling him back, but he couldn´t do that. He just couldn´t. Booker stood up, went to the door, trusting the shield to adsorb the bullets and kicked it open. His clothes flapped in the wind. He jumped through the air, Sky Hook flaring and held onto the hook right above the deck of the ship. The soldiers stared, stunned, but their surprise didn´t last long. Just long enough to equip his third vigor, and send the murder of crows after them. They soon overwhelmed the soldiers, and began tearing off their flesh. It wouldn´t last for long, but it was more than enough. He jumped down into the ship and equipped the Devil´s Kiss, sending a ball of fire right in the middle of the mess. It exploded, killing the soldiers, and the murder of crow's disappeared without a trance.

When he was about to turn around, something hit in the back of the head, hard and he barely managed to grab the rail and not fall to his death. The impact had shattered his already weakened shield, and his ears rang painfully. He turned around, and slammed the Sky-Hook into the soldiers head, tearing his face apart. Then, he sent the corpse flying with a trust. The shield had regenerated a little, just enough for the soldiers to not kill him while he was executing the other one, but he hurried into cover, anyway. It was about to break, and he couldn´t die now, not when he had found his daughter again.

When he looked up, he saw a black woman with a red scarf, a sniper rifle on her hands, and he tensed, ready to kill her or dodge or anything. Then, he realized she was not aiming at him but at the airship, and his fear turned to fury. He stood up, without caring for the consequences, and sent the possession vigor at her, screaming:

"Stay away for my daughter, you bitch!" The green energy surrounded her, and she froze up. With a trust of his hand, he made the woman put the barrel of the gun against her temple.

"Daisy!" Somebody screamed-one of the soldiers. That´s when he realized who they were. The Vox Populi. And he had their leader under his control. Perfect.

"Everybody, drop your weapons! Drop your weapons!" Another one screamed, and a second later several dull tucks told him that, indeed, they listened to that soldier. Booker turned towards them.

"Listen here, and listen well. I am going. If you shot at me, I will make her blown her own head off or just throw herself out of the ship. So don´t move, don´t do anything and let us go in peace. Are we clear?" The soldiers nodded, slowly. "Good. Very good."

Booker turned his back on them, still keeping up the effect of the vigor and jumped to the open door of the airship, which had advance a little bit since he dropped off. He closed the door behind him, hurriedly. Anna was there, on the ground, eyes half closed. She looked at him.

"Booker? Is over?"

"Yes; I took care of it. You can get up now." He said, and she did, dusting off her skirt.

"What...?" She began to said, but then he crossed the distance and hugged against his chest. Anna squeaked in embarrassment, but didn´t resist. After a while, she said: "What´s happening to you?"

"Nothing much." Booker said, laughed and then broke out the hug. It was hard, far too hard, but he didn´t want to weird out his daughter. He couldn´t stand that. "I just felt good, that´s all."

* * *

><p>Booker landed The First Lady on an empty patch of grassland, far for any village or city. He had no choice. If normal people found about it, there could be a lot of uncomfortable questions. They got out the ship, and when Anna just stood there, looking around with a smile on her face, he let her. He thought about a person finding them with the ship while they were standing around, but that concern seemed so small compared to her smile. He loved how she smiled. Anna turned towards him, and hugged him, hard.<p>

"Thank you." She said, in a small voice, like a child. Booker hugged her back. They were like that for a few minutes, and when he separated for her it was as hard as the first time. Together, they sent off for the nearest city. He noticed her underlining fear, but still Anna practically glowed, looking around like she was seeking everything for the first time. It was cute. And heartbreaking. But mostly cute.

Booker stopped a taxi, after sometime walking and they entered inside. He paid the guy to take them to the Paris, which should be only a few hours ride. The taxis tried to start a conversation, and they played along, but it was kind of awkward. Or maybe, it just seemed like than to him. Anna certainly had no qualms about bombarding the guy with questions about his job and the people he had meet and whatever cached her curiosity. Which were a lot of things. Booker found himself smiling the whole ride. He still had some money of him, so he paid the taxis up front and they got out of the car.

He had chosen to take The First Lady as near Parias as he could, while still being inconspicuous, mostly because Anna wanted to. But now he had his doubts. They had kept her on that tower, watched constantly. He had seen the painting of the Eiffel Tower on Monument Island and the other´s should know about that, too. That´s was enough sing of how much Anna liked Paris, and I was only the one he had actually seen. Who knew how many were there? Enough to make them look into Paris, first, maybe. And no just Comstock and his zealots, but also those who hired him. They could be a problem, as well. He had weasel out of the dealt, and he very much doubted those twins could just let them live their life's in pace. Maybe it could be better to go somewhere else, and hide. Assume a fake identity, and let the mess short out by itself.

"Booker?" He turned to her. She had a hand on her arm, and looked anxious.

"Yes?"

"Why... Why did you save me? I... I had been locked up all my life, but I am not idiot. You are a good man, I can see that, but I don´t think anybody can be that good. This... This can´t be just for the kindness of your heart. So why? Why could you risk your life to save me?"

"Does it matter? You are free now."

"Of course it matters. Please, Booker. Tell me." He looked away for her. He wanted to stay by her side, make her happy, but telling her the truth was making him nervous.

"You... You are..."

"I am what?"

"You are..." Booker sighed. "You are not Comstock´s daughter."

"What... So why... why was I... Did my father, my real father, hire you to take me back?"

"No." He closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself down because, really, there was nothing to worry about. Everything was going to be fine. "I am... I am your father."

"Booker?" She asked, hesitantly, like she thought it was a joke.

"I am serious. I am your father." He looked at her again. Too him, it seemed like the world had banished around them. "And your name is not Elizabeth, either. Not the name we gave you, anyway. Your name is Anna. Anna Dewitt."

"Why? If it's true, why? Why didn´t you tell me? Why was in that tower, and not with you? Why?"

"Comstock... he..." No. It was nice lie, and it would roll off out of this tongue nicely, but he couldn´t start his new life with his daughter by lying to her. And, anyway, even if he didn´t tell her now, someday-maybe not tomorrow or the next week, but someday- the guilt could consume him and he tell her anyway. So it was better to do it now. For both of them. "I... I sold you."

"You... You sold me?" She repeated, stunned, her eyes misty. Then, she sharply turned on one heel and walked away. Booker followed, and got in her way.

"Please, please, listen to me. You can decide what you want after that, but please, listen."

"Stay away for me." Anna said, calmly. "If you don´t, I scream rape and... and we see how you dealt with that."

Booker hesitated, just for a second, and then he put his hands on her shoulders. Anna tried to jerk away for him, but he didn´t let her.

"Listen to me. I was... in debt. A lot of debt. And this guy... Remember the one who had the box with bird pendant, after we escaped Monument Island? It was that guy. He said... Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt. I was drunk, and desperate and my wife had died not so long ago... so I did what he wanted. But I-I regretted it. I chased after him, in the rain, up to an alley. And I saw a tear in the wall, Comstock with you on his arms. I tried, Anna. I tried. But he was stronger than me. That´s... That´s was when you lost the finger." She looked down at hand. "The tear closed on your finger."

"And then what?" She said, near tears. "You forgot about me, and you lived your own life until you felt guilty and you went to rescue, like you were some knight in shining armor?"

"No. I searched for you. For that guy. I head an investigation business, you see. I am not exactly a slouch in that department. But I didn´t find him. I didn´t find you." He held out his hand to her, and she grabbed it, looking at the letters he had engraved there.

"What... What is this, Booker?"

"You. A.D. Anna Dewitt. The mark of the False Shepard, according to Comstock. But is just an admission that I am worthless guy, and nothing more."

"Booker..."

"I remember that day, clearly. Everything else is kind of fuzzy, but I remember that. I went to a tattoo shop, and asked the guy to engrave these two letters on my right hand. I told him it was the initials of my wife. And is kind of true; her name was Alexis. But it was you who I had in mind. So I couldn´t forget what I had done. So I couldn´t forget what wiping away my debt cost me." Anna clenched his hand. Maybe it was just pity for him, but he took him as a reassuring gesture. He had to, or he couldn´t have to courage to say another word. "These twins... they hired me, to rescue you. I didn´t know it was you. I had forgotten about everything. But it came back to me, on that airship. So... I know I am far for an ideal father. I know that you suffered far too much, and that is all my fault, but I-I love you. Please. Even if you don´t want to stay with me, at least let me give you some money so you can live on your own. I don´t have much, but is more than enough to get you started, at least."

And then he looked at her, awaiting her answer with hope and dread, trying to calm down his breathing. This is it, he thought. This will change everything. They spend several minutes in silence, without moving at itch.

"Daddy..." Anna said at last, voice breaking, and hugged him, pressing her head against his chest, her tears spilling down his shirt. Muffled, she repeated: "Daddy."

Booker hugged her back.

**Author´s Notes**

**At first, I thought I shouldn't upload this history. I am writing another one and, even though it seems to be normal on this site, I don´t want to write various histories at the same time. That makes it very hard to get updates on time... if you manage it at all. But this was just sitting on my computer, so I ended up uploading it anyway. I won´t concentrate on this history until my previous one, No Heroes Here, is finished. However, there is only one or two chapters left for that story, so is not going to take long.**


	2. CENTER CANNOT HOLD

II. CENTER CANNOT HOLD

Booker Dewitt breathed, and found himself on his hands and knees. When he stood up, he saw the twins standing by the door of the office, side by side.

"Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt!" They said at the same time, their voices mixing and then it changed, it sounded deep and harsh but at the same time monotone, far too mechanical. For a moment, just for a moment, he wondered if they were really there. Then, that thought banished, like water on a really hot day.

"No." He heard himself say. "No. You have played with us, both of us, but that is all over now. She has a life. She is happy. You won´t get in the way of that, or I kill you."

"We had a dealt, Dewitt." They took a step forward. "We had a dealt. Mister Comstock can wash away your sins, but first you must pay. Is just a means to the end-the means for your revival. So bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt."

"No! Is over! Is over!" Booker screamed, and turned around sharply, nearly losing his balance. He ran for the stairs, hit the chair and knocked it out. When he was about to turn the corner, the window exploded into a shower of glass, and the stairs and the walls were riddled with bullet holes. With dream like slowly, Booker looked out of the ruined window, and saw New York on fire. Somewhat distantly, though still painfully clear, he smelled burn flesh. The sky was as red as everything else, as red as it had been when he had ascended to Columbia. Airships descended into the world in neat lines, like a flock of birds.

"As it was written!" Comstock screamed, and it carried out over the world, booming like the voice of God itself. "The seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne, and drown in flames the mountains of men!"

Booker turned away for that vision, and saw the twins just behind him, in the middle of the stairs. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a terrified gasp. He ran upstairs, his heart beating so hard it was painful it became painful to breath, and outside of his office, in the city, he heard the shots behind fired, the screams and the smell of burned things. He shoved the door opened, closed it behind him and closed all the locks. And then, he turned around, and saw her, Anna, standing in the darkness with her head down, her hair covering her eyes. The reddish light fell on her for the only window in the room, so that it looked, somehow, like she was standing upon a stage.

"Anna?" He said. "What are you doing here?"

Silence. Booker approached her.

"What´s wrong?" He said, grabbed her shoulder and then she looked up. He wished her hadn´t done it. Her face was a mesh, nothing but tattered flesh and thought he knew, just simply knew, that she was looking right at him she had nothing were her eyes were supposed to be; they were just two black, hollow pits.

"Booker." She croaked; that _thing_ that looked like his daughter, her teeth gridding together, and sounded like she had her mouth full of dirt. "Come with me, Booker. Come."

* * *

><p>Booker waked up, sweating, his night clothes stuck to his body and almost afraid of the darkness of his room, but he didn´t scream. He grasped for the switch of the lamp at the bedside table, blindly nearly expecting that something inhuman could grab his hand and drag it down, but he turned on the lamp and nothing happen. He was behind an idiot; nothing more. The dream was still stuck on his head, but it was just that, a dream. Except…<p>

(_it hadn´t fell like a dream_)

it had unnerved him. Not just those damned twins, with their distorted voices. That was almost normal; they appeared on his nightmares every once in a while. But what he had seen upon reaching that other room, while the city burned… it was hard to even think about that. It was just so…

(_she was asking him to be together in death, yes, together in death)_

horrible. Yes, that, but it was more than just that, really. It had been so horrible that he felt like he was dying. Booker stood up, turned on the lights and went out of the room. Maybe he was just being paranoid-god, what a surprise that was- but it was better to make sure. He had to do it. So headed for his daughter's room. He knocked twice and waited.

"Anna?" Silence. "Anna? Do you hear me?"

Nothing again, nothing. Booker struggled to keep his cool. Songbird had taken her, he thought and that single thought destroyed all his efforts, making him breath unevenly. That damned bird had just swooped down for the sky, broken the window and took her off from her bed. Right under his nose.

"Anna?" He said, his voice more high pinched that he could have admitted. There was no answer. "Anna? Anna! Anna!"

Booker couldn´t stand it anymore, he just couldn´t, so he opened the door. Anna was right there, on the bed, dressed in her pajamas and rubbing her eyes. She sleepily looked at him, and yawned.

"Father, was going on?" Anna said.

"Uh. Nothing. S-Sorry if I waked you up." Then, as suave as always, he closed the door.

* * *

><p>Booker waited for her, his back pressed against the window, arms crossed, hearing the faint rustle of clothing just behind him. He fidgeted, uncomfortable. He hadn´t thought about her like that since the airship, but she had confessed to him just a few weeks before that, back at Columbia, she had be a little infatuated with him so moments like this made him feel bad. Like a rapist. It didn´t make much sense, but he still felt like that. Sometime later, the door opened and Anna stepped outside, dressed in a prim white shirt and blue pants.<p>

"What happened, Father? You are not usually like this."

"No, is nothing. Just forget about that."

"Is far for nothing, and we both know it. Spill it out, please."

"I… this is going to sound stupid, but bear with me. I-I had a nightmare, and I got more than a little scared. So, when you didn´t answer…"

"You freaked out." Anna said.

"Yeah."

"What was it about?"

"I don´t want to talk about it, okay?"

"Look, father. I love you, and I want to help you and I can make a guess about your nightmare. But I can´t really help you if you don´t tell me." Booker looked away for her; she looked so honest and earnest, so full of love…

"The twins… I was back at my office at Dewitt Investigations, and they were there. They said… bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt. And I screamed at them and ran and for a window I saw the city burning, I heard that bastard´s voice. When I got to a room upstairs, you were there, b-b-b-b…" Anna put a hand on his shoulder.

"Father, please, calm down."

"You looked death, like a corpse. But you talked to me. You looked at me and said: come with me, Booker. Come with me. Come." He felt a sudden tightness on his chest, and he realized that he was about to cry. Then, Anna hugged him and he hugged her back.

"That´s was just a nightmare, daddy. They are not going to come back, and I am not going to die. I am alive, happy and I am going to stay with you forever. It has been more than a year. Everything is going to be fine."

"You are right." He said, thinking about that dream he had in Columbia-New York burning beneath him. "I am sorry."

They broke out the hug.

"Is fine. To be honest… I am kind of happy that you reacted like that. N-Not that I want you to have nightmares or get stressed out or something. Is just…"

"I understand, Anna." And he did. Love had never been a thing she had in abundance.

"Thank you." Then, her smiled grew wider and she latched on to his arm. "Well, shall we go now?"

"Uh, where?"

"Daddy! You promised me." That´s when he remembered. They had decided to go to see the Eiffel Tower again, on his day off.

"Sorry, I remember now. Yeah, let´s go. But let me get dressed first."

"Fine." She said, and pouted. "Don´t take too long, Father."

* * *

><p>Booker went back to his room and got dressed in his customary clothes, fast, put the gun he kept under his pillow all these years on the pocket on his jacket, plus a few boxes of ammunition, and when back to his daughter. They both got out of the house, and walked towards the tower, arm in arm, instead of taking the car because that was what she had wanted. It had been more than a year, but the streets and people of Paris still held interest for his daughter. She pointed at something every once in while chatting excitedly with him, practically glowing. She had been like this, too, when they had first went to the Eifel Tower, just two days after leaving Columbia. He just smiled and went along with her; the tower was not interesting to him, but going there was worth him for sigs like this. Her smile was just so lovely...<p>

He brought two ice cream cones on the way. They had eaten them by the time they reached the tower. Booker hated high altitudes since his journey into Columbia, but he didn´t let it show as they went up the stairs. A cold wind was blowing, making their clothes flap. When they reached the top, Anna put his hands on the rail and smiled.

"Is beautiful, father. So very beautiful." He looked at the view, the city glowing beneath the light of the sun, and thought that it was beautiful, all right. The person down there were no more than a hazy blur, and smells of food reached him. It was a view of home, as simple as that. Coming here was a good decision, and moments like that only reaffirmed it more and more.

"Yes, it is." Booker said, and softly stroked his daughter's hair. She didn´t even seem to notice it.

"It kind of remains me of that place..." She said, and for a moment a swell of anxiety welled up him his gut. "But not in a bad way. This... This is what it should have been."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The view, and feeling like you are as free as a bird. The people down there, living their lives in pace and... just... just the warmness of it all, father. Is beautiful." She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, the smile never leaving his face. In his eyes, she was radiant. Booker didn´t believe in things like freedom or peace, but it moments like this he almost did. Even if it was just for a moment.

Then a siren blared, loudly, like god had fired his shotgun and the skies were dyed with red. Anna almost jumped. I know what this is, he thought, horrified. The same as that light in the light house. Booker reached into his pocket and drew his gun.

"Come on, Anna, let's go..." He closed his mouth. The skies had parted like a sea and from it descended rows of ships, with several cannons on each of their sides. He remembered his dream, the burning city and Comstock´s voice, screaming that supposed prophecy. Anna had started shaking.

"Comstock is here, he is here to take me..." He grabbed his daughter's hand and broke into a run, carrying her along. They descended the stairs two at a time. Explosions rained down on the world, making houses and everything catch fire, and shaking the world so hard he had to hang to the rails to not fall down. It didn´t take long for the smell of burn flesh to reach his nose. Soon, they were back on the ground.

There was nothing to do. What anybody could do, really, against a whole army? It was one thing to be in the heart of enemy territory and cause a mess, but like this they had no chance of winning. They would steal a car, get out of here fast and let the world take care of Comstock and his zealots. He had enough. So Booker sprinted towards the nearest car, lifted his gun and broke the window. He reached inside, opened the door and sat on the driver´s seat. Anna sat beside him. The key was right there, on the wheel. He started the engine, and stepped on the pedal. They were as far as the middle of the road when something hit them, crushing the top of the car and Booker was sent flying out of it. He rolled, and came to a stop when he hit a streetlight.

Booker spat out blood, and somehow found the strength to lift his head. He saw Songbird standing over the car, which now was nothing but a mess, its eyes shining red. The bird got off the car and jumped towards him as he tried to get away, claw extended.

"Stop! Don´t hurt him!" Anna said, and the bird stopped. Booker followed it's gaze, and saw his daughter get off the car and approach Songbird. She touched its extended claw with both of her hands. "I am sorry, I never should have left. Never should have left."

Booker felt the world folding on itself, and his head hurt. He weakly raised his fingers to his nose, and they came away with blood.

"Please. Don´t hurt him. Take me back, but don´t hurt him." The bird grabbed his daughter with his claw, and turned. Its wings hit a tree, and tore it off from the ground. No. No. This was not going to happen again. He stood up, and ran towards Songbird.

"Get back here, you fucking bird! Did you thing I going to let you go? Give me back my daughter!" The bird stopped, looked at him for a moment and then turned back. He roared, and jumped, grabbing the closed claw of the bird as it rose to the skies. Songbird noticed him, and tried to shake him off, slowing its ascend. Booker held on tighter with his left hand, raised his gun right in the eye of the bird and shot until he emptied the clip, but the bird didn´t show any signs of damage. He tried to reload with one hand, thinking that he could do just about anything for a bottle of Salts.

"Father, stop! You can´t..." The bird did a sudden turn and he lost his pistol. Then, before he could recover, he did another one that made him loss his hold on the claw. Booker fell down, arms extended towards his daughter, watching her tiny face growing distant and distant, with the rush of the wind on his ears. He broke something on his way down, and hit the ground. Everything went black.

**Author´s Notes**

**Yeah, well... I know I said that I will not concéntrate on this story until the other one is finished, but I hit a roadblock-massive battles are hard to write- and so I turned to this history, and wrote this chapter in a hour or two. But anyway, don´t expect chapter three to come as fast as this one. Is just not feasible. **


	3. THE DAY OF NIGTH

**III. THE DAY OF NIGTH**

Booker opened his eyes, and beheld a red sky beyond a large hole. It was the broken ceiling. He had fell, breaking it. He rose to his hands and knees, shakily. From his mind, he could felt than that shield had be broken. That was what saved him. There was a crack, and the door opened, slowly, Comstock´s soldiers just behind it. With a last, deseperate grunt of effort he pushed himself to his feet, raising the hand that, somehow, still held the gun. The door opened, zealots rushing inside and Booker headshotted the one in the front, put two bullets in the chest of the one in the rigth and drove another one to the ground by shooting his knee. Then, he ran for cover. Is partially recovered shield nearly shattered before he hid behind a pillar.

"Come out, False Shepard! Come ou..." Booker popped his head out of cover, and put a bullet rigth between the soldier´s eyes. He felt to the ground, with a dull thunk. One of the soldiers got out of cover, and charged at him. He lined up the shot, and pressed the trigger. Click. It was empty. Booker swore under his breath, and brougth the gun down on the zealots head like a club, making a deep gash on his head. Before he could recover, he hit him again with gun, knocking him out and got back in to cover. Then, carefully, he reloaded his pistol.

"You have not chance! We have come to burn the Sodom Below, and you with it! You will pay for having taken away the Lamb!"

"Shut up!" Booker screamed. "She is my daugther. Mine, not his. Your prophet is nothing but a liar."

"We can´t be fooled, for we are faithful!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" There, the last bullet was in the chamber; all sixteen of them were in the chamber. "I fucking kill you!"

Booker popped his head out of cover again, and put a bullet in the head of a guard behind a desk. A hail of bullets fell against his shield, but he didn´t even care. He aimed and the next guard, carefully, and fired. It hit the wall. He screamed, and shoot again. This time, it hit one of the soldiers rigth in the chest and he tumbled down to the floor like a ralldog. The shield was strained, near its breaking point. Another bullett hit him, shattering his shield but he only aimed at the next guard at fire thrice, putting a bullet rigth througth his arm, his cheek and his rigth eye. He felt a hot, stinging pain on his shoulder and he realized that he had be hit. Booker staggered, nearly losing his balance, then steadied himself and blowed the last soldier´s head off.

He grunted, holding back a scream and put his free hand on his shoulder. It was soon stained by blood. The bullet hadn´t not hit anything important; at least, he thougth it didn´t. At the very least, he felt the pain and that was a good sign. Booker approached the corpes of the soldiers, staggering and saw that one of them at a Sky-Hook attached to his arm. He had left his back at the house, so he breathed a sign of relief, took it off for the soldier´s corpe and put it on his own arm. He tried it, and found that it worked. Perfect.

Booker left the house, and saw the city burning. That unforgable smell of burning flesh reached him, distic even througth everything else was burning too. The glass on the windows nearest to him was missing. In the sky, the ships of Comstock were firing down against the city, shaking the ground with the explosions and in the middle of that formation was Columbia, who nowl like more like a warship that a city. It was undeniable; the city his daugther loved so much was dying. That, more that anything else, made him shake with anger. How dare they! He kill them, every last one of them!

He broke into a run, thinking furiously. He had to get to Columbia, somehow, before it was too late to save Anna. Comstock needed her for something, no doubt, but that he could not kill her didn´t mean he could not hurt her. So he act to act, fast. There were a lot of that buildings. Maybe one of them could be enougth to reach one of the ships with his Sky-Hook. It was a chance. His only chance, unless they send another butch of soldiers after him, again.

Booker saw something falling from the corner of his eye, and it hit him, knocking him to the ground. He cougthed, breathing the ashes and dirt. There was a weigth on his stomach. It was a half burned post, that read: Cafe Eden. And, below that: the cafe of your dreams. He gruted, pushing the thing off of him, stood up shakily and ran for it. The world swayed ligtly before his eyes, and he felt a littel bit sick, but he didn´t slow down his pace for a second. Anna needed him.

* * *

><p>He found a building higth enougth, kicked down the door and ran upwards, holding his breath all the way. Some debris felt for the walls. Some he dodged, some he just let them bounce off his shield. It could regenerate almost inmediatelly, anyway. By the time he got to the top, even breathing hurt but he carried. He walked to the edge of the building, and jumped, Sky-Hook flaring, at a nearby ship. For a moment, he thougth that it hadn´t be enougth, that he was going to end up as no more that a red splatter on the floor, but the Sky-Hook attached itself on the hook above the deck of the ship. He looked to a ship just above him, and jumped a second time, attaching it to the hook. They were already firing at him, and with so many they barely stopped while he keep repeating the jumps, until he got on level with Columbia. When he jumped towards the floating city, one more bullet hit the shield, shattering it. He landed safely, on a crouch, stood up and ran for it, using the scenary as cover. He didn´t really know where he was heading, but he didn´t care either; he could start thinking about this like that as soon as he was safe.<p>

The shield shattered again, and he nearly lost his balance. It took him a moment to realize he had be a shot for above him, then turned and ran towards a building. Booker hit the door hard, and it opened. He closed it behind him, locked it and only then he allowed himself to breathe a sighn of relief. It was fine. He could still safe his daugther. Everything was fine. He turned around.

There was a tear there, in the middle of it, outlined in blue. Booker extended his hand, hesitantly and the tear expanded. It wa a image in black and white, blurred. A statue. Or at least, it seemed like that.

"Some men dream of money." Booker took a step back. That voice was... familiar. Painfully familiar. But he didn´t remember when he had heard it. "Some men dream of love. My father dreamed of a flood of fire!"

There it was again, that painful sensation that was like the world had folded on itself. He raised his fingers to his nose, dazed, and they came away covered in blood. Booker looked back at the tear waiting, almost hoping, for the voice to continue. It didn´t. He walked away, telling itself that he was walking fast because Anna needed him and nothing else, looking around. A set of bandages was on the table. He took off his jacket, his shirt, bandaged the wound and put it all back on again. He checked for anything that could be useful, found a bottel of Satls and drank it in one shot. Booker turned the corner, and there was another tear rigth in front of him. He was about to just pass it, but he approached it.

"I have seen the seeds of fire that will prepare the Sodom Below for the coming of the Lord." Comstock´s voice. It was that _bastard_. "But it will not be I who carries that banner up the hill. That job...falls to you, Elizabeth. That job falls to you."

"Her name is not Elizabeth, you son of a bitch!" Booker screamed."She is Anna! Anna! You stole her for me; stole everything for her! You keeped her locked up in a fucking tower! You made that feathered piece of shit her jailor, and you put in her library books about everything, even about lock picking! Why? Why? Did you get off knowing that you were dangling a bit of hope rigth in front of her when you knew that it was uselees?! Did you, you bastard?! Did you?!"

His troath was tigth by the end of it, and it was all uselees. Comstock couldn´t heard him. It was just a tear. Maybe something he had told her in the tower, when he had be groaming her to take on his mantle as the ruler of Columbia and burn down the world and for god knows what else. He didn´t know; he didn´t care either. He just walked away.

Monoment Island had burned down, so the bird must have took her directly to Comstock. To his house, or mansion or whatever it was. It couldn´t be hard to find it, but it should be heavy guarded, even if it seemeed that the city was empty. Could he just go and storm the castle alone? Oh, he could try. Even if it mean his death, he could go on anyway. Anna needed him and that was that. But... maybe it could indeed mean his death.

The Vox. Daisy should be death by now-Comstock had be winning and had a whole year to take her down, so there was no doubt on his mind- but maybe her people survived, hidden or in Comstock´s service or emprisoned. They could help him, all rigth. They wanted the same as him; the head of the prophet in a silver plate. And he could give that to them.

Booker opened the door, and stepped outside the building. He could get the Vox out of their prison, and it could not be arm to get them armed. The piloce station should have plety of weapons, even with the assault that was currently going on. It couldn´t increase his odds much, but it had least could be something. He needed everything he could get.

Booker took to the Sky-Lines, guiding himself from his memory and from the signs. He saw a few civilians behind their windows, but not a single soldier. He saw a huge, black building, towering over the buildings sorrouding it, jumped, landed in a crouch and approached the building. There was a post, with a inscription that read: The Prophet´s Reforment Centre. He had found the prison. He tried, just in case, but as he expected the gates was locked. He grabbed the bars with both of his hands, and tried climbing over the gates. It took him a long while, but he got to the top. He fired a shot of the Possesion Vigor at each mechanized turrent, jumped down and ran for the door. They were open. He entered the prison, and closed the door behind him.

"You Vox trash!" Booker froze in place, then heard a strike. He crounched, Sky-Hook ready and approaced the voice. Soon, he realized the voice was behind a door. "Shut your mouth! Shut your fucking mouth!"

"Don´t care. Shoot me now, if you believe yourself so rigtherous as to kill somebody who can´t even defend himself. Surely, you exemply the virtue of your Proph..." Then, there was a gunshot. Booker had not doubt than that had not be a warning shot.

"He was slandering Father Comstock!" The same guard screamed. "Can you believe that? I don´t understand why Father Comstock could forgive them all, and not just execute them. Is all they deserve. They are just trash. Filty negro trash. They can´t undertand the grace of our Prophet, or the guiding ligth of the Archangel that led us to this New Eden. They can´t understand anything."

He opened the door, slowly, gun at the ready. There were five guards, and they hadn´t noticed him. They were sorrouded by cages, in which several Vox members were all put together. On the cage that was rigth in front of him, there was the corpse of that Vox member, slupped against the bars. Blood polled beneath him, and stanied his clothes. A guard took a steep forward, and a key for his pocket. He approached the one closest to him, and knocked it out with the Sky-Hook. They had not noticed him yet. Good. Booker screamed, and sent the murder of crows after them with a flick of his wrist.

The guards turned towards him, raised their guns and were overwhelmed by the crows. They shot at them, and tried to swat them away, but the crows tore apart their flesh and drove them into the ground, screaming. Booker saw one crow enter the mouth of one of the soldiers. The Vox members go out of the open cage, leaving the corpse there and disarmed the guards as they struggled with the crows, and put them down with their own guns. After that, the murder of crows dissapeared, like they handn´t even existed. He shot the knocked out guard in the head, and approached the free Vox Members.

"Is the False Shepard." He heard one Vox say. "The enemy of that old bastard. He has returned, like Daisy said."

He knelled, and took the key that guard had used to open the cage, while the Vox Members looked at him.

"You have be here longer that me." He said. "Does this open all the cages or is there a different key for every cage?"

"Same lock, same key." One of them responded. Booker nodded, and went to open the cages, one by one. It took him nearly ten minutes. All of them went to stand next to each other.

"Are all of you what remains of the Vox?"

"No." A Vox said. "Some us manage to escape being locked up, and are in hiding. Some of use were never found out as Vox Populi members. And Daisy... maybe she is alive, maybe she is not. We just don´t know."

"Okay. Can you guide me to the others?"

"Yes, but... what is your objective?"

"Kill Comstock, and take my daugther my back."

"Your daugther?" Another one said.

"The girl Comstock calls the Lamb of Columbia... She is my daugther and she was stolen for me. Again. That fucking Songbird just swopped down for the skies, took her and I couldn´t do anything. So... I pissed off. I am not going to lie. That´s the only reason I am back here. But we have a common goal, and our only chance is to work together. So, help me and I will ensure the Vox rule Columbia. Do we have a aggrement?" The Vox members nodded, slowly. "Good. Now that we have that out of the way, tell me. Where could she have be taken?"

"To Comstock´s House or his zepelin, _The Hand Of The Prophet_. Can´t be sure."

"Who could be sure, then?"

"Fink."

Booker nodded. He remembered that guy. At the day of the raffle, he had be delivering a chessy speech while people working for him were showing off the effects of the Vigors. He remembered hearing Fink Manufacturing. That Fink could know about Anna was very likely.

"Understood. But first, let´s get you armed."

* * *

><p>Five random Vox Members took the weapons from the dead guards. They searched the reforment center for Sky-Hooks, and found one from everybody. The few guards they encountered on the way were easily dispatched, as well as another pair of mechanical turrets. After that, they escaped the reforment center. Instead of climbing the gates, one by one, Booker opened the doors with a hit of the Brucking Branco Vigor. The Vox guided him to a nearby weapons shop, and they ransacked it. He was low on Salts, so while the Vox were getting armed Booker broke the cash registrer, put all the Silver Eagles inside a bag and brougth a bit bottel of Salts in one Circus Of Value machines that were inside the shop, and drank it. When they finished, they got outside and took to the Sky-Lines to travel faster. After littel more that a quarter of a hour, they were at the door of Fink Manufacturing.<p>

"The blowtorch, quick!" Booker said, and one Vox stepped forward, carring it in both hands. He burned off the lock, and it clattered to the floor. Then, the door burst open and the world trembled so much he lost his balance and fell backwards. It took him a moment to realize that a Handyman had jumped througth the door, and was now towering over them.

"I am sorry!" The hulking mostrosity screamed, and send a Vox flying with a slap of his hands. Booker stood up, charging the Devil´s Kiss on his left hand and fired it directly at the Handyman´s heart. It screamed, and was knocked back several steps, but didn´t loss his balance. The Vox spreaded out, out of the reach of that thing and were now shotting at it. The Handyman didn´t even seem to notice; it just puch him, and sent him flying over the rail. He hit the ground on his left shoulder, and for moment the world grew white and he thougth that he was going to pass out, but he just screamed like he was dying. There was a littel shake, and he dimly realized that it was the mechanical man, landing close to him. He couldn´t even muster the stregth to crawl away.

"Anna, I am sorry, Anna, I am sorry, I am so sorry Anna..." He muttered, eyes closed, over and over again, like a prayer as it grew closer.

"_For family_!" There was a mechanical roar, and then the continous hail of fire from a machine gun. Booker opened his eyes slowly, and saw a Patriot behind him, making the Handyman fall back, its arms crossed at his heart to protect itself. Where... His eyes narrowed. He had saw a Tear there, on the way and his hands were extended towards it. It didn´t make any sense. But what other explanation was there? None. Besides, he could worry about such things when he got Anna back and not a second sonner.

"_The Lord judges, I act!_" He stood up and fired at the Handyman while the Patriot keep it distracted. Then, the hail of fire stopped, and the Patriot had to reload. The Handyman roared, ran towards it and smashed it into the ground with its hands and keep on hitting it, until it stopped moving, sparks coming out of it. A rocket blast caugth the Handyman in the back. It roared, turned towards the source and jumped. Booker put the pistol on his pocked, went to the broken Patriot, grabbed the machine gun, and turned it on the enemy, but it was unnecesary. He saw the Handyman sprawle on the ground, steaming. The Vox and him entered Fink Manofacturing. He saw a few on them giving him odd looks, but nobody even tried to get some answers. Better; he was not in the mood for explanations.

"What is this place?" Booker stiffened. It was Anna´s voice, and she sounded terrified. "What are you planning to do to me? Please! I don't understand!"

She screamed, and beneath it he could hear sparks. Electro-sock. They were using Electro-sock on her.

"Please! Please, no, no! No! No! Please...please, just tell me what I did! No! Please...please just let me go! Just...just let me go! No, please!" She broke down, and cried. Her sobs sounded as loud as gunshots, and it hurt even more.

"Don´t worry!" He screamed. "I am here to save you, Anna! Hold on!"

Booker ran for the doors, and opened them with a push. It was a large, open courtiyard. There were two turrents, and both saw him at the same time, their ligths changing for green to red, so he was forced to take cover, still hearing the desesperate screams and the sobs of his daugther.

"I'll be...I'll be your daughter. I'll be your daughter! I'll be...I'll be your daughter, please!"

The Vox members joined him. He popped his head out of cover, and fired a shot of the posession Vigor at one of the turrets, turning it agaist the other turrent. It was soon shattered, but the Vox destroyed the remained turret before it could turn his attention to them. A airship came, and soldiers dropped from it, taking cover behind the scenary.

"Dewitt." Booker froze. "Do you hear her? Do you hear her begging? That´s the price of revelion. She should not have rose her hand against the Prophet, and now she has be struck down."

"Shut up, Fink." He growled. "I coming for you, and I will kill you! I will burn your empire down!"

Booker stood up, and sent the murder of crows after the soldiers, interrumpting their fire. Then, he abandoned his cover and charged towards them, screaming at the top of his lugs:

"I fucking kill all you!" He rammed the Sky-Hook trougth the troath of one of Fink´s Soldiers, tearing it open, making the man gurgle on his own blood. He felt bullets hit his shield from behind, charged the Devil Kiss on his left hand, turned and launched it. The explosion burned off the soldiers flesh, leaving them as nothing more that corpses with gashed flesh and sigths of charred bones beneath it. The murder of crows dispersed, withouth leaving a trance.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Booker turned, Sky-Hook flaring. He stopped. A vox had touched his shoulder, not a enemy.

"What? What the hell do you want?"

"I-I understan is hard, but calm down. This... This is exactly what Fink wants, Dewitt. To make you abandon all reason and just... charge at them. And you can´t save your daugther this way, so..."

"Calm down." Booker finished for him, harsher that he wanted. He shoved his hand away. "I get it."

"Dewitt..."

"Shut up." He said, and turned away from him. "Let´s just go."

They grouped, and advanced together, carefully and metodically, Anna´s screams still ringing in his ears, and stopped in front of a gate. Instead of wasting time with the blowtorch, Booker blew it open with a shot of Bucking Branco. They ran up the stairs, and opened the door. Just in front of them, there was a sign which read: Fink MFG. Booker crouched and the Vox followed his lead. It turned to be useless, thougth. No a single soldier revealed himself by the time they left Fink´s Office.

"Please, Please, just stop!" Booker criged, but carried on and ascended the stairs just in front of him, following Anna´s pleads and screams up to glass door.

"Well, well, Dewitt." Fink said, joyiously and he tensed. It took him just a moment to realize that, just like Anna´s voice, Fink voice came from somewhere behind that glass door. "You are a lion, like a thougth. You see, I know all about you. What you did. A man like me could use a ex-Pinkerton like you. What do you say, eh? Let´s be colleagues."

"Fuck you. I going to kill you." He said, and slamed the Sky-Hoook agaist the glass of the door. "That´s what I say."

"You are going to regret this."

"No. But soon, you will." Booker answered, and hit the glass with the Sky-Hook again, breaking a large hole in the glass. He put his free hand througth the hole, and opened the door. They stepped inside. There were three doors more doors, one in each side. Booker listened for a moment, trying to calm down.

"Please... What did I do? Just tell me what I did!" There. The door of the left. He went to open it, and it wasn´t locked. Anna wasn´t there. In the middle of the room, there was a table with a Vaxophone on the top of it. That was where her screams came from. Booker grabbed the Vaxophone, threw it to the floor and stepped on it, breaking it and making Anna´s voice go away. It all be a trick. Just a trick. They had recorded his daugther as they had be _torturing_ her, to make him listen to that. And if she had be screaming like that earlier, how was she now? _How_?

Booker went to the other door and tried to open it. Locked. Fucking locked. He gave it a kick.

"Tear it down!" He screamed. "Tear this door down!"

A Vox took a step forward, blowtorch held with both of his hands and used it on the lock on the door. It overheated, shattered and felt to the floor. Booker shoved the Vox aside, and kicked open the door. Jeremia Fink almost jumped, and took cover beneath a desk.

"Please, Dewitt! Be reasonable! I didn´t want do that! I didn´t want anything to do with that, b-b-b-but Comstock o-or-de-red me to do it! I couldn´t refuse!" Booker went around the desk, grabbed Fink by the shoulders and smashed him agaist the glass. "Stop, Dewitt! Stop!"

"Very well." Fink looked at him, surprised. "I let you go, but with one condition."

"Y-yes! I give you anything!"

"Tell me where Anna is held."

"Anna?" Fink repeated, confused and something in his tone made him slam him against the glass again, but even harder.

"My daugther. Comstock´s Lamb. Where is she?"

"She is... She is at Comstock´s House. They... they are trying to make her aggredable to the Prophet´s Vision."

"Where is that place?"

"In Emporia, pass a gate in Victory Square. I-I can draw you a map, if you want."

"No. This is enougth." He said, and released him.

"Oh, thank god! I swear you won´t regret this, Dewit..." Booker slamed the Sky-Hook througth Fink´s stomatch, staring intently at that´s bastard´s eyes. They widened.

"W-Wha..."

"This... is for Anna." Booker responded, dreamily. Fink grabbed the Sky-Hook, and started trashing around, trying to free himself or get it out or anything. It was uselees. Booker watched as he gurgled on his own blood, which dripping down his chin like liqor; watched the life go out of his eyes, bit by bit. He retired the Sky-Hook, and let Fink´s corpse slump down to the floor. His stomatch was wideopen, and his entrails were hanging out. Blood polled beneat him. Booker turned around.

The Vox were at the doorway, looking at him with expressions filled with disgust and admiration.

"Burn this place down. Do with his corpse as you see fit." He said, and walked away.

**Authors Notes**

**So, as the first part of No Heroes Here is finished, I am coming back to this story. For now on, it will be updated semi-regularly.**


	4. STEP INTO MY GARDENS

**IV. STEP INTO MY GARDENS**

While the Vox Populi got to work, Booker passed the glass door, walked down the stairs and sat down. What happened was still painfully clear to him-and how could it not be? That had be only a few minutes ago. Her screams, and her broken sobbing still ringed in his ears. He had destroyed that Vaxophone with his own hands, but her voice handn´t not gone away. Like the voices of the people at Wounded Knee, the people he had burned alive with his own hand, Anna´s voice could remain until his death. Sure, Comstock was the bad guy here. His daughter´s pain was because that madman had plans for her. Yet, none of these plans could have be sent into motion if he didn´t sell his own daughter, just like that, when those strange people came over. He didn´t even have a single guarantee that these people could wipe away his debt, even if he obeyed. Yet he had done it all the same.

_(Shut down the machine! Now!)_

Booker hid his head in his hands, the sudden pain on his head making him fell dizzy. Beats of sweat ran down his face.

_(She is mine!)_

That thought-strange, disconnected and senseless but somehow still powerful- made him bend over. For a moment, he was afraid he could puke. He made little chocking noises, but nothing else. Booker breathed, in and out, in and out, just like he was supposed to do. Still, it took him a minute or even three to calm down. What was that? Just what was that? Memories, or was he simply going crazy? No. No, no, no. He didn´t have time for that shit. Anna was not safe yet. He had to turn his head to more useful things like... like...

_(How the hell did that Patriot appear?)_

His hand had be extended towards the tear, so the most logical thing to think was that he had opened it. Yet that didn´t make a lick of sense. He didn´t knew why Anna was able to open Tears or why, but whatever that answer was he knew he didn´t have it. Comstock could have just take him, instead of Anna, if he really could do that. Yeah, there was some possibility he didn´t knew that he could open tears. He himself hadn´t even thought about it until that Patriot appeared. But he had know about Anna. Somehow, he had know about it. So if he really could open tears, Comstock should have know.

Booker grunted. It was all so confusing, and every time he thought he was close to answer all he did was give himself more questions. There was only one thing that could confirm it, one way or another. So he stood up, looked at a Tear with medical kits and awkwardly extended his hand towards it, like he was some sort of Jedi. Nothing. He frowned. He hadn´t see Anna do anything like that, come to think of it, except when she had opened a tear to what he could only guess was another world in the now destroyed Monument Tower at in the Hall of Heroes, so maybe he didn´t need to, either. He felt even sillier, but he just stared at the Tear, trying to image the full appearance of the box with the medical kits.

At first, nothing happened, then, the Tear rippled to life and what was before nothing but a glimpse beyond it was just a few meters away from him. That´s it. This was to much to be a simple coincidence or something. But... he had to test it more. He looked at another of the Tears littering Fink´s little empire, and tried it again. Nothing. Then, a few moments later, nothing again, nothing. He didn´t understand why nothing had happened this time, but that had showed him enough. It had be helpful against that Handyman, but he couldn´t relay on the Tears.

"Well, is just one more little thing, Dewitt. Is not like overwhelming odds ever hurt anybody." Except gamblers. Like him. Like he

(_you sold her sold her you sold her_)

had been, anyway.

"Mister Dewitt!" Booker turned, and saw one of the Vox running down the stairs towards him. He stopped just in front of him. "Mister Dewitt!"

"What is going on? And why is this place not burning down?"

"We... We made a few adjustments, and... well, could you like to say a few words? Not just to the Vox, but to the world." Booker thought about it. He had never be a leader material. Wounded Knee had be his act as a leader, and that didn´t turn well. But he knew enough about being a leader that speeches to raise morale were important. And, most of all, he wanted to him.

"Yes, I want to." He said, and stood up. The Vox member turned, and he followed him back to the room were he had

(_murdered Fink_)

justice had be done, to a microphone. He grabbed it, brought it closer to his mouth and cleared his throat.

"My name is Booker Dewiit. I look at this city. I look on to the tall buildings, framed by the ligth of the sun. I see a beautiful angel, wings extended, reaching with her arms towards the sky. And I am disgusted, because I see all that lies beneath it. You think the streets are paved with gold, but nothing could be more wrong. They are paved with blood. The blood of people you don´t even know. The kind of people you may see, from the corner of your eye, out in the streets, begging for a job or money or food... anything. And you walk away, disgusted. Thinking they are filthy. That they could better be death. I have seen the true face of this city and is not Eden, but Sodom. Jeremiah Fink´s personal motto is acceptable here, admirable. Be the bee, be the bee! Be nothing more that inexpensive cattle that I can profit for! And you... all of you... obey him. Well, now Jeremiah Fink is dead, by my own hand. The Founders remain, but their time is short. They are only capable of holding on to whatever semblance of power they have, because that´s their drug. The only thing they want. I could bet all my money they don´t even believe what they are feeding you with, twisting your minds. Don´t be a Dimwitt. The Lamb. Songbird. The False Shepard-me. The shield, the sword and Lady Comstock. They are all just one more tool to keep you in line. But is not even necessary. You, all of you, are weak of spirit. Even a slave as choice! Even a slave can die with his head held high, but you _chose _to live your entire life on your knees! You chose to believe, chose to be controlled! Chose what other people told you was a higher path, and bend your knee to your makeshift gods and saints and symbols! But in the end, there is no god. There are no rulers, special people nor lions or bees. There is only choice. Only... man."

Then, Booker took a step back. For a moment, the Vox looked at him, with a sort of reverence that made him uncomfortable. Then, the microphone blared.

"Oh, Dewiit." Comstock. It was Comstock; he had caught him. "You have free the heretical Vox Populi, and have leaded then to strike against the Founders. To bite the hand that fed them, like the will dogs they really are. And you have succeeded. But is that power... or the shackles of a slave?"

"I don´t care. How is she?"

"Her spirit is being cleansed as we speak." Booker clenched his hands into fits, so hard his knuckles turned white.

"By Electroshock? That´s your idea of cleansing?"

"Cleansing is done by any means necessary. The Lamb can´t be allowed to be lead astray; the prophecy forbids it. She must sit the throne and burn down the mountains of men. She must, Dewiit. No matter what happens."

"Goddammit! Fuck you, and fuck your prophecy!" He picked up the microphone, and with a last, wordless scream, he threw it through the glass off the window. Booker held on to the desk, and tried to control his breathing. That´s what he wanted, getting him off balance. But remembering why he shouldn´t do that was getting harder by the second. He signed, and walked away. One Vox put a hand on his shoulder, but he just shoved it away. "Save it."

* * *

><p>The Vox dragged Jeramiah Fink corpse outside, and nailed it to a wall. Then, together, they burned down Fink Manufacturing, little by little, teared the posters and other such things from the wall on the way. At the square, they tore the golden statue of Fink from its roots, toppling it over and causing it to break against the ground. When he looked out, and beheld their handiwork, Fink´s empire was nothing but a bonfire, burning brightly in the fading afternoon. Booker smiled. The Founders all talked about sowing the seeds on fire on the Sodom Below, but now, they were burning.<p>

_(Shut it down! Shut down the machine!)_

He held out a hand to his head, groaning. That was... what Comstock had said, when he was had tried to get Anna back, right? So why now? Why did he have to remember now? The pain was unbearable. There was a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped but just looked. A Vox. Just a vox.

"Dewitt?"

"Is nothing. My head was hurting." He forced himself to stand straighter; seeing him like that couldn´t do any good to their morale. And it was

_(Nothing is finished!)_

over, so it didn't do him any good to dwell on it. It was better to concentrate on the now. Comstock. Anna. Yes, it was better. "Where did you hide, usually?"

"Well, there were several places, sir. We hid inthe Hall Of Heroes for a while, after Slate and his men´s death. Them Comstock... he attacked, and we were driven out and captured."

"The Hall of Heroes." Booker repeated. He remember what Slate had told him, that if you removed all the parts he had tried to forget what was left, that he had be remembering the massacre at Wounded Knee, at almost smelling the smoke, rising. Putting down Slate, and his thanks. "Yeah, that sounds good. Let´s go there."

* * *

><p>They grouped together, and tried to advance through the city as silently as possibly, without taking to the Sky-Lines. Comstock´s message had unnerved him, and he didn´t want to take any chances. Some ships took notice of them, and rained down fire on them for above, but they used the city has cover, and none of the soldiers jumped down. That surely could change, eventually, but for now, they were as safe as they could ever be on Columbia. For now. Sometime later, the had to get on the Sky-Lines, despite the danger. They jumped away when some of the ships fired rockets at them, and speed up even more when the soldiers got up the deck at shot at them. Unlike he feared, they didn´t really make an effort. A lot of the soldiers had Sky-Hooks of their own, but they never jumped down; not Handyman or Patriot was sent after them. Nothing. He lost a few Vox, so the attack was no useless, but still... it was making him uneasy. Some part of it must have be that they were busy fighting the other ships, but it couldn´t be everything. He feared that they were all being lead into some kind of trap.<p>

_You are just being paranoid, _he thought. And he almost believed it. Yet, he couldn´t take off his words from his head. Is that power, or the shackles of a slave... what did that mean, exactly? That the Vox were going to drag him down? Maybe they on Comstock´s side now, after being forced to summit. Maybe, all of this was nothing but an elaborate ruse and going to the Hall of Heroes was just going to get him killed. It didn´t seem likely, but... maybe. Maybe.

They jumped down, the same way he and Anna had gone the first time, and it didn´t take long to realize that they had rebuild the place. The machines that had previously be out were bristling with the electricity of Shock Jockey, the messages that were scribbled every where by Slate and his soldiers had disappeared and the statue of Comstock, with his arms spread in a sign of forgiveness, had be rebuild. In fact, it was twice as bigger. Over the statue´s head was a sign that read:

THE LORD SAID: PROPHET, I WANT YOU TO TRAIN A NATION OF FISHERMEN.

And just below it:

HERE THEIR DEEDS ARE RECORDED, AND THEY ARE EVER LONGED.

Booker could have laugh, but the truth was that there was nothing funny about it. It was more like a insult. Comstock fishermen were not ever longed, but stepping stones in his path. Just like him, Anna and her powers. He very pointedly turned his gaze away from the statue, like it had not affected him all. The Vox didn´t even noticed it, not even when they reached the front door. It was closed by a metal gate. Without needing to be told anything, a few Vox members slipped their fingers through the crack at the bottom, and pulled upwards. While they held the gate in that position, the rest of them entered the Hall Of Heroes. Booker stayed behind with those few Vox, looking over his shoulder, expecting Comstock´s zealots to drop down. They didn´t show. Not even when everybody else was already inside. Booker crouched, passed below the gate, grabbed it and held it in that position so that the Vox who had held the gate could get inside. Then, he dropped it.

The outside had changed, but the inside of The Hall Of Heroes, not so much. He didn´t pay the place special attention when they first got here, but, even so, he could tell that the place was practically unchanged. There were not knocked down displays, broken glass or corpses splattered on the floor, yes, but that was about it. Better this way. If he had made some sort of monument to Anna... he didn´t even want to think about it.

He felt a stab of pain inside his head, like his brain had be juggled and screamed. The Vox jumped, and looked back at him. He tried to kept his balance, but felt to his knees, still screaming, holding his head with both hands. He...

(_Some men dream of money, some men dream of love._)

felt hands on his shoulders, his body. The people around were fading, going away and even thought they were saying something, he could only make out the sound of the words, but even that was getting dimmer and dimmer by the moment.

(_My father dreamed of a flood of fire!_)

He raised his head to the skies with his eyes closed, overwhelmed, even mad, visions forming in his head, real visions, more real that anything else, visions of a great palace almost buried in the snow, the heads of the forefathers watching over it and Tears on the way, marking the way, his way. Booker screamed. His scream bounced off the walls, and died an early, painful death when he spat out a gush of blood all over the floor. He opened his eyes again, slowly.

"Dewitt! Dewitt!" The voices of the Vox, and he could understand them. The world was coming back, thank god, the world was coming back. The legs and feet all around it snapped into focus, and he catched all of their worried mutterings and screams. He raised his head, and that was when he felt a hand touch the back of his neck, small, almost feminine. He looked beyond the group, and saw her, back turned to him. Anna.

He closed his eyes again. That was not possible; it had to go. He opened his eyes again, and she was still there, walking deep into the Hall Of Heroes, never once looking back at him. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but it seemed like he was stuck. Like he had be buried alive inside his own body.

"Snow?" He muttered, doubtfully, not even knowing why. "Its July..."

And then, he passed out.

* * *

><p>Knocking. He could heard knocking, and smelled a half burned cigarette. It took him a moment to realize he was sitting, with his arms over a desk and his head slouched. He groaned, and when he lifted his head those two were there, right in front of his desk. The man was holding something in his hand. A coin.<p>

"What..."

"Why do you ask what, when the delicious question is when?" He said, like he had not heard him.

"Lives, lived, will live..."

"Dies, died, will die." The man finished, and tossed the coin into the air. He saw it spin two times, and fall into the man´s open palm. He smiled, and presented the coin to him. Booker looked. There was something reflecting on his surface. A hand. It was a hand, with two letters tattooed on it. His hand?

"What is this?"

"A piece." Robert said.

"Of what?"

"Your ailing mind." The twins responded, as one and then they vanished, like they hadn´t never be there at all.

* * *

><p>Booker jerked awake, coughing. The Vox were surrounding him, and they tried to get him back down on the seat. He pushed their hands away.<p>

"I am fine." He said. "Leave me be."

"Dewitt..." Some Vox said.

"Didn´t you heard me?" He said, and sat up. His head spun dangerously, and he had to grip the sides of the seat to not fall down.

"Yes, but... what the fuck happened back there?"

He felt tempted, very tempted, to just tell him to fuck out and concentrate on what was important, but outright evading their questions couldn´t do anything good.

"I... I not in good health. That´s all. And don´t worry, I still will kill the Founders and give Columbia to the Vox. This is just a momentary annoyance." Booker said. "Now... split off. One group will stay with me here, making the Hall Of Heroes more defensible and the other will try to get as many other Vox here as you can. We need the numbers, if we are going to storm Comstock´s House. Understood?"

"Understood!" They proclaimed, in unison.

"Good." Booker said, simply and stood up. His head didn´t spin, and even thought he felt a little bit sick he didn´t think he would puke.

* * *

><p>When half of the Vox left the Hall Of Heroes, Booker and his group got down to business. At first, they were reluctant in letting him push himself, but they soon caved in. They barricaded all the windows, locked the doors, destroyed every Patriot used as an exhibition piece just in case, gathered as much weapons and ammunition as they could and strategically rearranged the place. In the middle of work, Booker heard something strange. A kind of high, buzzing sound. A ship, it was a ship. A moment later, there was an explosion that shook the ground so hard that he had to grab a pillar to not lose his balance.<p>

"We are under attack!" Booker screamed, and the Vox sprung into action, leaving their work aside. "With me!"

He ran to the nearest door, and opening it. Right in front of him, he saw a ship and several more just behind it. Comstock was standing on the deck of that first ship, arms grasping a cane that he surely didn´t need him, looking at him with an expressionless look. Booker raised his sniper rifle, and aimed for his hearth. Comstock didn´t move.

"So eager to make things end in blood, Dewitt. It didn´t expect nothing less from you." Comstock said.

"What about you?!" Booker screamed, and the top of his lugs. "I am supposed to believe you are not here to attack us?!"

"No. But you brought this on yourself. The Lord would forgive you, but I am just a Prophet, so I don´t have to. Your very existence is a mistake. I will take care of Elizabeth from now on."

"That´s not her name! That´s not her name!"

"It is, Dewiit. And so, it will remain." Comstock said. Booker took aim again, and pulled the trigger. The bullet narrowly missed him by a few inches, and the ship went flying away. Music started playing, and Booker froze in fear. Songbird, again. He heard his screech and the flapping of his large, metallic wings.

"Get back!" He screamed. "Everyone, get back!"

Booker scrambled back, trying to get away even knowing that he couldn´t, not really, as the sounds made it clear than that damn bird was approaching, _fast_. A crash that shook the ground; Songbird had landed. He turned is head just in time to see the Songbird poke his head through the balcony, ripping the ceiling and extended his hand towards him. He tried to dodge, but Songbird grabbed him, pulled it out of the Hall Of Heroes and threw it.

The world spun two times right before his eyes, and then there was a crash. Glass went flying, and his shield shattered. He hit the ground a moment latter, his breath coughed out of him. He opened his eyes, slowly, and saw Songbird there, towering over him at the broken balustrade, his eyes shining red. Booker stood up, tried to run and felt to his knees. He could felt the shield start to regenerate. He forced himself to his feet, and ran from it, Songbird´s screech ringing even over the sounds of the battle, which was now in full swing.

**Author´s Notes**

**Sorry for the delay. I had a busy couple of weeks, and that **decreased**** my writing time. ****A lot.**** Anyway, next chapter should be out ****sooner.****


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